


Afternoon Games

by bickazer



Series: Magus Verse [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Bondage and Discipline, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Slapping, Dirty Talk, Dominance, Established Relationship, Fantasy, Flogging, Fluff and Smut, Insults, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Magic-Users, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Sex, Rough Sex, Scent Kink, Sexual Roleplay, Size Difference, Size Kink, Soul Bond, Spanking, Submission, Tattoos, Teasing, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21993847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bickazer/pseuds/bickazer
Summary: All Dracen wanted was to spend a quiet afternoon away from the bustle and turmoil of court, relaxing with a good book. But he should never underestimate how persuasive his ministra partner Ilya can be. The next thing he knows, he's standing above a bound Ilya flogging the life out of him.There goes the quiet afternoon, but somehow Dracen can't bring himself to be too upset about it.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Magus Verse [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/671831
Kudos: 34





	Afternoon Games

**Author's Note:**

> This is yet another Magus Verse short story. Like Anticipation, it's basically a PWP focusing on the Dracen/Ilya couple. Timeline-wise, this can take place any time before the events of the main story Alone, Together. 
> 
> I wrote this a while ago, same with Her Duty, but I'm posting it now because I've gotten back on a major Magus Verse kick, especially since I'm almost done with edits to the main story.

"Dracen. Hey, Dracen."

Dracen vaguely registered Ilya's voice at the edge of his hearing, but most of him was too absorbed in the archaeology journal in his lap. He'd received it by mail-kite this morning, and promptly decided to devote his day to catching up on the latest theories and discoveries about the ancient ruins of Senero and the lands beyond. 

Yes, he was a royal courtier, devoted to his service, but sometimes Dracen entertained the idle thought that if he could have chosen his career path - if he hadn't been born the heir of his family - he might have taken up archaeology. Nothing fascinated him more than imagining the lives people had led thousands of years ago, their grand cities and temples that had now crumbled to dust. 

It gave him a nice sense of perspective, especially at this court where corruption and backstabbing ran rampant. In the end, they'd all turn to dust too. What would future generations make of them, then?

As Dracen turned the page, Ilya shifted against his thigh. Dracen's ministra was kneeling by his side, leaning against his leg. While Dracen flipped through the journal with his right land, he rested his left hand atop Ilya's head, occasionally carding his fingers through the long, silky black strands.

"Dracen," Ilya said again, an annoyed tinge entering his voice. "Are you listening?"

Dracen nodded, but very noncommittally. He couldn't help it; he'd reached an article written by an archaeologist who'd excavated one of the ancient cities of the fey. As a child, Dracen had loved stories about the fey, the mysterious beings who had brought light magic to the humans of the Midlands. They had shunned iron and lived in floating cities of crystal and glass. Bits of fey-crystal could often be found for a pittance at open-air markets, but this archaeologist had uncovered the largest, most intact trove of crystal yet known.

Not only that, but these crystals were inscribed with the fey language, a script of strange, elegant symbols that resembled chains of flowers woven together. Never had anyone discovered so much of the script in one location. It would be an invaluable boon to researchers for decades to come.

"Dra _cen."_ When Ilya pushed his face against Dracen's thigh, Dracen realized he'd stopped stroking. He quickly gave Ilya's head a pat before turning the page.

This didn't appease Ilya. "You're being so boring."

"You don't have to be here, you know," Dracen said mildly. "Didn't you say the guards needed some sparring practice, anyway?"

"I wanted to spend the day with you. But not like _this_."

"I'm sorry, I'm almost done," Dracen said, though he wasn't. "After I finish this article, all right?"

"Wow, that book's really that much more interesting than me, huh?"

Dracen heaved a sigh. Ilya had never understood this about him, though then again Dracen didn't understand why Ilya liked knife fighting and lockpicking so much. He decided to do the mature thing and not respond, and continued reading in companiable silence.

Until Ilya broke it again. This time he reached up, wrapping his slender arms around Dracen's waist, and a faint whine entered his voice. _"Master."_

"Almost done," Dracen said, though he was only a third through the article. It would have gone a lot faster if he hadn't stopped to examine each drawing of the inscribed crystals in depth. Their jagged yet delicate shape was unlike anything made by human hands, contrasting starkly with the flowing script engraved upon them.

Ilya squeezed around his waist and pressed his face into Dracen's side. "Master, Master, come on, play with me. I can give you a lot more fun than some stupid book about ruins."

He was definitely whining now, needy and impatient. Which wasn't a tone Dracen often heard from his sharp, quick-tongued ministra. He wasn't the kind of pathetic ministra who couldn't live without his energos' constant attention - no, Ilya was doing this on purpose.

Which made a funny heat stir in his groin for the first time, but Dracen strove to ignore it. He flipped another page, and this time moved his eyes slowly over the text as if trying to commit every word to memory. 

"Masterrrr...." Ilya actually climbed over the arm of the chair and hauled himself into Dracen's lap. Now he wrapped his arms around Dracen's neck and stared up into his energos' face, pouting like a spoiled child. Dracen did his best to suppress a laugh.

"Excuse me, I'm trying to read," he said, theatrically waving the journal about. "I'll play with you later."

"Master, you meanie. I want to play now." As he spoke, Ilya leaned his neck up and pressed a kiss to the underside of Dracen's jaw. 

It took all of Dracen's self-control to hold his lust in check, to not let it leak through their bond - but he was sure Ilya had sensed it anyway. And Dracen could more than sense Ilya's eagerness, throbbing through their bond, thickening his sweet ministra scent. 

Instead, Dracen grabbed Ilya by the base of the neck and pulled him roughly away. Ilya snarled a complaint, but Dracen didn't listen. "I said I'm busy."

"Wow, Master." Ilya sounded sulky. "Didn't know you loved that book more than me."

Dracen fought to hold back a laugh. Mock-stern, he said, "Don't be such a brat now."

"I wouldn't be a brat if you weren't such a bore." 

Oh, this game never got old. Dracen tightened his grip on Ilya and said as seriously as he could manage, "Very well. If you insist on acting like a brat, you're going to get treated like one."

Ilya's eyelids fell half shut and a tiny smirk played across his lips. "And how do brats get treated, Master?"

Dracen's hands closed around Ilya's sash, then he yanked the ministra forward so that Ilya fell across his lap. Ilya squirmed, but Dracen held him tight and rolled up the hem of his light summer robe. It was plainer than proper for a ministra courtier, a single layer of purple cotton woven with a simple aster motif. Then again, Ilya had always disdained for court fashion, and Dracen was glad for the casual state of his ministra's dress now - made things much easier for him.

Once he'd rolled the robe to Ilya's waist, Dracen tucked it under the sash and undid his loincloth one-handed. Lifting his knee, Dracen hovered his palm over Ilya's exposed bottom, but didn't touch yet. Even so, he heard Ilya's sharp intake of breath.

"Naughty little brats like you," Dracen murmured, playfully stroking Ilya's hair, "get punished with bare-bottom spankings, of course." 

Ilya lifted his pert little ass further, and a definite spike of heat surged through Dracen's crotch now. And it only got hotter when Ilya said in a seductive whisper, "And how do they get spanked?"

Face-down on his lap, Ilya couldn't see Dracen's smile - which he was glad for, because it was quite incongruous with his stern master act. He raised his hand high and brought it down hard across Ilya's ass. The slap echoed around the room.

"Ow, Master!" Ilya cried out, writhing, but Dracen spanked him again, and again and again, picking up a steady pace.

"First," Dracen said above the noisy smack of his hand across Ilya's small bottom, "they get their bottoms warmed up with a hand spanking, then they get a nice hard flogging until they're good and sorry."

"Master, it _huuuuurts!"_ Ilya whined, kicking his legs. Dracen tightened his grip around Ilya's waist, but he wasn't seriously worried he was hurting his ministra. He was using much less force than he did during actual punishments, and Ilya could take a lot more pain than this - he was just playing up his reactions for the sake of the game. 

Besides, Dracen sensed Ilya's real feelings well enough. They reverberated through the bond, feeding into Dracen's own brightly burning lust and excitement.

"Perhaps you should have thought about the consequences for your bratty behavior," Dracen said in the severe tone he usually used for lectures, but tinged with playfulness. Really, there was nothing more delicious than seeing his tiny ministra prone and helpless over his lap getting his ass spanked bright pink. The impact as his palm dug into soft flesh, the color that bloomed when he lifted his hand. The way Ilya's ass bounced across his lap, cheeks jiggling. Ilya's helplessness, his inability to escape, even his cries of pain. He enjoyed it during punishments, though always felt a little bit guilty about it, and enjoyed it even more during their games, when there was no need whatsoever for guilt.

He moved his hand downward, now concentrating his smacks on Ilya's thighs. Ilya arched his back and kicked harder, whining and blubbering. By now, Dracen could feel very well Ilya's erection rubbing against his thigh, growing harder the more he spanked. Ilya's cries and gasps acquired a breathless quality, and it made Dracen's pulse speed up as well. 

Dracen finished with a concentrated series of blows to Ilya's sit spots, the fullest part of his ass. The bronze skin flooded an even darker pink, beautiful as summer roses, and Dracen hardened further. Some part of him - a very powerful part of him - wanted to lift Ilya up and spear him in one vicious thrust, but he was better at controlling himself than that. Being an energos didn't mean having license to do whatever one wanted. No, it was all about control, discipline, restraint. Because he was the one who dominated, it was his duty to pay attention to his ministra, to ensure that both of them were enjoying it equally as much.

"Ow ow Master, please, no more - " Ilya cried, and Dracen was sure he wasn't only talking about the spanking. No, he wanted the teasing to end, but too bad; Dracen wasn't going to give in to him that easily. Not when they could have so much more fun.

He slid his hand between his ministra's thighs and parted his legs, revealing his hard and throbbing cock, his tight balls. The sight made heat roar anew inside Dracen, but rather than touch Ilya's erection, he smacked his palm against the soft, exposed skin of Ilya's inner thigh.

"Ouch!" Ilya flailed, and for the first time Dracen sensed that this wasn't just part of the act - that _had_ hurt in a way the previous blows hadn't. Dracen smacked with the same amount of force on Ilya's opposite thigh.

Ilya writhed, trying to rise beneath Dracen's restraining arm, but Dracen pressed down harder. Another smack, lower down, and Ilya started trying to close his thighs. The sensation of his soft skin squeezing Dracen's hand, the wiry muscles writhing and twitching, drove a moan from Dracen's lips. 

He could've easily gotten off just groping around Ilya's thighs, but that wasn't in his plans. So he pushed as hard as he could, forcing Ilya's legs apart again, and finished off with a light slap to Ilya's balls.

"Ooh!" A shudder traveled through Ilya's entire body. "M-Master no, not there - "

In response, Dracen slapped again. Ilya's balls tightened further and his cock jumped, pressed almost flat to his stomach. He let out a sound like a sob. 

"Master you pervert - "

"Now, now, remember it's your fault for being such a brat." And teasingly, Dracen slid his hand between Ilya's legs and brushed his fingers over his ministra's cock. Ilya's shuddering gasp sent an answering twinge of heat through Dracen's stomach. "Look at this. Getting hard from a punishment?"

"M-Master, that's not - "

Chuckling, Dracen pulled his hand away and gave Ilya's bottom a few taps, not as hard as actual smacks but not gentle enough to be affectionate, either. Ilya whimpered and squirmed.

"I do believe you need further punishment, brat," Dracen said in a rough whisper, raking his fingers through Ilya's hair. "Up."

He let go of Ilya then and Ilya quickly scrambled off him. Dracen missed his ministra's warm weight on his lap, but he knew greater pleasures awaited. As Ilya stood, Dracen let himself briefly admire the view - after all, his robe was still hitched up to his waist - before he grabbed his walking stick and hauled himself to his feet. 

"Let's go. You know where," Dracen said tersely. Ilya nodded. His hair was coming loose from its ponytail, the purple-streaked black locks spilling over his burning red face. He looked rather adorable like this, not that Dracen would ever say it aloud.

Anyway, their bond was strong as ever - Ilya had already sensed Dracen's thoughts, and responded with a flare of annoyance. Dracen fought hard to wipe the smile off his face.

Instead, playing the stern master again, he gestured. Ilya went ahead of him, moving with the quick grace that still took Dracen's breath away, and they headed out of the reception room of their chambers into the bedroom - or rather, through the side door across from the bed.

Inside was a rectangular room, paneled in wood, just big enough to fit a chair in the middle and a spanking bench near the wall. As for the walls, they dangled with racks of instruments, cuffs and chains and whips and gags and straps. This was their play room - Dracen never administered actual punishments here, and the instruments here were meant just as much for pleasure as for pain.

As soon as the door was locked, Dracen grabbed Ilya by the wrist and pulled him close. Ilya made a show of struggling, but of course he wasn't serious about it - if he was, he'd be long gone. Even though it happened often, seeing him deliberately give up control filled Dracen with a dark, illicit thrill.

Holding Ilya in place, Dracen untied his sash, then yanked down the robe. Ilya whined a protest as his clothes fell away, but Dracen gave him a little push toward the spanking bench. "On the bench."

"Master, _please_ , do I really need this?" Ilya pouted again. "You already spanked me. I've learned my lesson."

"Now, brat, you're not the one who decides that," Dracen said severely. "I told you that was only to warm up your naughty bottom. Now _on the bench_. That's an order."

This was only a game, but Dracen felt Ilya's crystal clear resolve through the bond. The same resolve he exuded every time he submitted to an order. Dracen couldn't explain it, but his heart swelled with pride. 

Truly, he was fortunate to have Ilya. To be honored with Ilya's willing submission.

Ilya lowered himself down upon the bench, and Dracen went up to him and tightened the restraints around his wrists and ankles. He made sure to position Ilya so his ministra's hips were lifted above the bench, his cock mere inches from rubbing the padded surface. But not close enough. Ilya let out a frustrated whine and Dracen laughed and smacked his ass again. "Still naughty, aren't you. I guess I'll just have to punish you harder until you learn how to be a good boy."

Ilya wriggled his hips from side to side, which made his ass move in a most enticing way. "Master, I'm _trying_ , I swear."

"I know you are." Dracen softened his voice. "I'm always here to help you do better. Now let's see if the flogger can help too."

Dracen had the feeling that if they weren't playing a game, Ilya would have responded with a derisive snort. As it was, he sensed a bright spark of amusement through their bond, and it stoked the fiery pleasure to greater heights. 

Well, Dracen wouldn't disappoint his ministra. He took a flogger from the wall, one with about a dozen tails made of soft leather, and made his slow way back to the spanking bench. Ilya twitched as he approached, but otherwise didn't react. Dracen positioned himself behind Ilya, then, leaning against the bench for support, he lightly tucked Ilya's ponytail over his shoulder. Like this, he exposed Ilya's slender back, and he danced his fingers down Ilya's spine, tracing the intricate tattoo of raven wings spreading from his shoulder blades. Ilya shuddered a little.

Even after all these years, the black ink remained stark and crisp. The tattoo was the mark of Ilya's old gang. When Ilya had first bonded with Dracen, all the other courtiers had tried to make him remove it, but the two of them had successfully argued it wasn't anyone else's business. 

Truthfully, Dracen was glad Ilya had decided to keep the tattoo. Ilya didn't want to forget where he came from, and Dracen didn't want to forget how they met, those hot summer days in the filthiest streets of the city. Even if he could do without the part where Ilya's gang had held him captive and beaten him up repeatedly.

Though if they were talking about beatings, Dracen had probably long gotten even by now. His gaze moved lower, down to Ilya's ass. The pink color from the hand spanking was now beginning to fade, but Dracen would be sure to leave a lot more marks when he was done.

With his knees straddling the bench, Ilya's legs were forced wide apart enough that his cheeks parted, revealing his hole. From this angle, Dracen also got a good view of his balls and cock, now flushed a lovely deep red. 

"M-Master, Master." Ilya squirmed a bit. "When, when are you going to - "

Dracen scraped his nails across Ilya's shoulder blades, making his ministra shudder harder. "You're that eager for a flogging, hmm? What a whore of a brat."

Ilya kicked a little, as much as he could do when his legs were restrained. "It's your job to teach me not to be a brat."

Laughing, Dracen patted Ilya's back, then drew his hand away. Oh how he wanted to reach down and tease Ilya's hole and cock until he was gasping and breathless and begging for more, but that wasn't the game he was playing. Not today. Instead he lowered the flogger over Ilya's ass, letting the tails brush the tender skin; like this he could judge distance. Ilya tensed and his spine stiffened, distorting the tattoo. 

Dracen lifted the flogger, then lowered it again. This time he used a bit more force, flicking the tails across Ilya's left ass cheek. Not hard enough to leave marks, but enough for Ilya to feel it. Ilya gasped softly. 

It continued like this, Dracen bringing down the flogger at a regular, quite deliberate rhythm, putting more pressure into each hit. If he was wielding the strap or belt, he'd start hard and end hard, but the purpose of this was to tease and titillate as much as it was to cause pain. Even as marks began to appear, red stripes criss-crossing Ilya's bronze skin, Dracen made sure to only lick Ilya's ass with the leather, hard enough to sting but not much more.

Ilya reacted wonderfully, of course. He panted and writhed, jumping a little with each hit. Now he wasn't even making a pretense of being in pain. Indeed, as Dracen struck him again, he lowered his hips and tried futilely to rub his cock against the bench.

Dracen responded by smacking Ilya lower down, across the thigh. Ilya's entire body twitched. "Oh!" he gasped.

Another hit, equally hard, to his opposite thigh. Then, mischievously, Dracen flicked the tips of the tails across Ilya's exposed balls. The sound Ilya made lanced at his gut, and the throbbing in his cock became almost unbearable. 

It didn't help that Ilya's scent bloomed thick in the air, perfuming each breath Dracen drew in. And the scent, the floral sweetness of wisterias tinged with something sharper, almost metallic, brought to life all of the instincts Dracen usually worked so hard to suppress. The animalistic hunger, the desire to consume everything, all that his ministra offered....

His own scent pressed against his skin, the hot musk driving him even more insane, and soon he couldn't tell the difference between either of them, the sweetness or the musk, and it didn't matter because they had blended into something whole, something perfect. 

_"Ahh!"_ Ilya cried as Dracen slapped the tails of the flogger over his asshole next. The little pink hole twitched, an adorable sight that made Dracen really, really want to plunge inside and fuck him without mercy. Not yet, not yet. He hadn't completely lost all his self-control. 

So he tore his attention from Ilya's hole and instead struck Ilya across the buttocks, hard enough to make his ass bounce. Ilya gasped, saliva dripping from his lips. Another strike, a little harder, then he alternated it with a light brush of the tails across Ilya's balls. This time Ilya squealed and again made an effort at rubbing his cock across the bench, which earned him a harder slap to the balls.

 _"Ow!"_ Ilya cried out, and Dracen could see how his balls were beginning to darken and swell. He'd have to relax his rule that Ilya keep himself shaven, as the area would be too tender to risk bringing a razor near it for at least the next day. Still, it was worth it for Ilya's reactions now. 

He trailed the tails across Ilya's ass again, using so little pressure it probably tickled more than anything. Certainly Ilya seemed to enjoy the sensation; he lifted his ass up, trying to bring it closer to the flogger. Smirking, Dracen made the next hit a hard strike to Ilya's thigh. Ilya kicked, mewling. 

"Master, Master, please fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," he cried breathlessly, thrashing harder. "Oof!" as the flogger fell again across his thighs. "Please, in me already, _please_ \- "

"Little brat," Dracen said, filling his voice with dark command. "Do you really think you deserve to be fucked now?"

This time he carressed Ilya's shaft with the tips of the flogger, driving forth a mad, needy little whimper from his ministra's throat. His scent intensified until it felt like Dracen was slurping down the sweetness and musk into his lungs.

"I, I do." Ilya swayed his hips from side to side, and the sight of his well-spanked bottom wriggling back and forth nearly cracked Dracen's already very tenuous self-control. "I'll be good, for the rest of my life, I swear, whatever you want, anything you ask, it's all for you - "

"And why is that?" He flicked the flogger over Ilya's asshole again, making Ilya squirm in a most delicious way. "Tell me, brat."

"B-because, because, _ohh_ , because I'm yours, yours, your ministra." Ilya pressed his face into the bench, his shoulders shaking. Dracen certainly wasn't imagining the sob hitching his voice. "M-Master please, I _need_ you, I can't - without you - always, always - even if, if I'm bad Master will be there, Master will _always_ \- "

Some part of Dracen wanted to stand here and listen to Ilya sputter madly forever, each word sparking warmth deep in his heart, but even he didn't have that much self-control. Ilya's scent was sweeter than it had ever been, his desire was pulsing in Dracen's veins, and Dracen was already weak and unsteady on his feet despite gripping the bench for support. 

So he finished with one last hard whack of the flogger against Ilya's ass, leaving behind brilliant red stripes. _"Master,"_ Ilya sobbed, trembling. 

Dracen carefully put the flogger aside, then reached out a hand and rested it between Ilya's shoulder blades, keeping the pressure firm but not enough to hurt. "Ilya," he said, and felt stupidly proud that he was able to keep his voice calm, without a tinge of roughness. "Check in. Red or blue?"

"Wh-wha?" was Ilya's mumbled reply.

Dracen repeated himself, more emphatically. Oh, how his cock desperately wanted him to just push Ilya down onto the bench and fuck him until he was crying for mercy, but Dracen's lust didn't control him. He needed to be sure that Ilya absolutely wanted this, was ready for it.

"Blue, come on, how is that even a question," Ilya complained. He sounded a little more alert now, to Dracen's relief.

"We're changing the activity and we didn't discuss this part of the game beforehand. I need your okay to continue."

"Continue away, you idiot."

With a relieved sigh, Dracen moved his hand up to Ilya's head, gently tousling his dark hair. "Now, now," he said, back in the stern master tone. "Is that really how you should be addressing your master, brat?"

"Oh, Master...." Ilya arched his back into an enticing curve. "I guess you'll just have to keep punishing this stupid brat until he learns his lesson."

"I suppose I will," Dracen said, chuckling. One by one he undid the restraints, and Ilya climbed off the bench. As soon as he was standing, Dracen grabbed him by both wrists and dragged him close. By now, the red stripes across his ass were dark and vivid, and Dracen could feel the heat emanating from the irritated skin. 

Which of course didn't do anything for his erection. As quickly as he could manage, he yanked a ribbon from a wall rack and bound Ilya's hands behind his back, pulling the knot tight enough to make Ilya breathe in sharply. He wanted to be certain this would leave marks. 

"There's only one appropriate punishment for you, my sweet brat," Dracen murmured into Ilya's ear. "I'm going to fill up that needy little hole of yours." He pressed his fingertip to the reddened skin around the hole, making Ilya tense. "I'll go in with barely any preparation and you'll have to accept me, all of me, and I won't be gentle. By the end of it all, you'll understand. You belong to _me_." 

Ilya's scent pulsed with excitement. "Ooh, Master, are you going to make me bleed?"

"We'll see, won't we, little brat?" This time Dracen flicked his tongue out and traced the shell of Ilya's ear. Ilya let loose a shuddering sigh. Then, more seriously, he said, "Red or blue?"

"Really, you're asking me now?"

Dracen tightened his grip around Ilya's wrists - not enough to really hurt, but enough to be a warning. "It'll be you who'll have trouble sitting down tomorrow. So if you suddenly remember you had any plans to go horseback riding, I suggest you bring it up now."

"Tch." Ilya tossed his head, full of disdainful pride, and Dracen felt his love for his ministra deepen. "Well, Lord Pavos is holding a polo tournament next weekend. I'd hate to lose the chance to put him in his place."

Dracen couldn't resist huffing a slight laugh. While Ilya hated most court traditions, he'd taken to polo like a fish in water. Perhaps he did have some Heathlander ancestry, given how masterfully he rode despite never having mounted a horse until he had bonded with Dracen.

"You'll be fully recovered by then. Now come." Dracen tugged Ilya toward the chair. When they got there, he sat down with relief and pushed Ilya onto his lap. Ilya was forced to spread his legs wide, straddling Dracen's thighs. Leaving his asshole completely exposed, the skin stretching wide around it. Ilya shuddered as he buried his face into Dracen's shoulder.

Dracen took a moment to adjust his glasses - they had started sliding down his sweat-slick face - before seizing a fistful of Ilya's hair and pulling his head back. Ilya sputtered a protest, but that was when Dracen plunged three fingers into his mouth.

Dracen didn't have to give the order; Ilya began sucking immediately, his tongue worshiping every inch of Dracen's fingers from the nails to the knuckles. Dracen's cock jumped and jumped. Sweat dripped from his temples like tears. 

He couldn't take a second longer of this. As soon as he judged his fingers were slick enough, he pulled them out of Ilya's mouth. Ilya tried to bite, which earned him a slap across the ass. "Settle down, brat."

"Mm, mn, when are you gonna - _ah!"_ as Dracen plunged all three fingers into Ilya's hole. Instantly Ilya clamped down on him, _hard_ , but Dracen didn't stop pushing. His fingers finally burst past the ring of muscle and he began to wriggle them, coating every inch of Ilya's tight, warm inner walls with saliva. 

Not enough, of course - normally Dracen needed quite a lot of oil and patient preparation to fit his large cock inside Ilya's tiny body. At least if he didn't want to cause Ilya pain. But pain was the entire reason for today's game.

Dracen's fingertips brushed Ilya's prostate, earning a tortured squeal from his ministra. Dracen pressed, once, twice, before swiftly pulling his fingers out.

At last, he opened the front of his pants and his fully erect cock burst out.

The gleam in Ilya's eyes as he watched it swell, bulging with veins, made Dracen even harder. And bigger. He gripped Ilya's thighs and spread his legs further, but he could already tell it would be a tight fit at best. 

It didn't matter. And Ilya felt the same. "Yes, yes, yes, Master," he babbled, eyes glazed. "Master, yes, rip me in half with that big thing of yours." 

Dracen laughed into Ilya's hair. "I'm not going to go that far, love." Though yes, he enjoyed more than anything feeling Ilya stretch around him, seeing Ilya tremble and gasp and even cry as he struggled to take all of Dracen's thick length inside. Blessed Ancestors, Dracen adored their size difference, and he savored in each and every chance to remind Ilya of it.

He lifted Ilya up, which took a surprising amount of effort - even after all these years, he often found himself expecting his ministra to be lighter than he actually was. But his slight frame belied that he was built entirely from wiry muscle. Then Dracen lowered Ilya until his hole pressed the tip of his cock.

Dracen could feel the entrance yielding beneath the pressure, heard Ilya's little gasp - part pleasure, part pain. His hole was already irritated from the flogger strikes, and Dracen was about to torment him even more there. 

"Ready?" he murmured.

"Always, Master," Ilya said, and his confidence reverberated through their bond, made Dracen feel light enough to fly.

With a single smooth motion, Dracen pushed Ilya onto his cock. He speared Ilya almost completely, felt the passage stretch in a desperate bid to admit the intrusion. Ilya's raw scream echoed around the chamber, and not for the first time was Dracen grateful for the soundproofed walls.

He pulled Ilya down as far as he could go, now seated completely inside his ministra. And oh, there couldn't be anything better in the world, the heat, the tightness, the mad clenching and unclenching of Ilya's insides around his cock. And the head was pressed right against Ilya's prostate, digging deep into the soft organ....

 _"Master Master ahhhhh gonna - gotta - "_ Ilya thrashed and wriggled, and his movements made him squirm even more deliciously around Dracen's cock. _"C-cum - "_

Dracen bit down on the hollow of Ilya's neck. "Control yourself, brat." Though the effect was rather ruined by the rough edge to his voice. 

Ilya didn't listen - he squirmed harder, trying to rise. Silly brat, he hadn't been given permission. As punishment, Dracen slapped him across the ass, making Ilya jump. Then he dug his hands deep into the soft, well-spanked flesh of Ilya's cheeks and spread them wider and pulled Ilya up.

The sound Ilya unleashed dragged deep into Dracen's gut - a hoarse, breathless wail tinged with pain. As his insides loosened around Dracen's cock, Dracen viciously shoved him back down, filling him up completely again.

 _"Owwww it huuuuuuurts Maaaaaaaster - "_ And Dracen could _feel_ Ilya's pain, the sharp agony stabbing through the haze of pleasure clouding their bond.

He welcomed it. Now, more than ever, he needed to rise above his base lusts and pay attention to Ilya's body, Ilya's mood, Ilya's reactions. Some energi got careless at this stage, didn't bother to check in with their ministra, certain the bond would tell them everything. Dracen didn't trust the bond to that extent. Overwhelmed by pleasure, who knew what he might miss?

So even as he thrust at a fierce, vicious rhythm, yanking Ilya up and down on his cock with increasing force, even as he growled and groped Ilya's ass like an animal, even as sparks crackled through his veins every time his cock hit Ilya's sweet spot, he kept a careful ear to Ilya's mad sobs and sputters, awaiting anything that sounded even slightly like the safeword. 

He didn't hear it. Mostly Ilya was letting out things that sounded like, "Oof," "ouch," hurts," "can't," "please," "more." Dracen would never understand what Ilya got out of pain, but maybe that was why he was an energos and Ilya a ministra.

More than anything, Dracen felt an overwhelming gratitude that he'd found Ilya, and Ilya him. With his first ministra, they'd kept things simple and vanilla aside from punishments. At first he'd tried the same with Ilya, but Ilya had stood his ground and convinced Dracen that it was okay to let down his guard, to give in to his basest desires, because Ilya was strong enough to take it. Because it'd be proof that Dracen really did trust him.

There was no one more stubborn than Dracen's naughty brat of a ministra, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

When Ilya tore and hot blood slicked Dracen's cock, his cries acquired a wilder timbre. His scent smothered Dracen like a blanket, hot and urgent - he'd nearly reached his edge. And so had Dracen.

"Little brat, little brat," Dracen growled into Ilya's hair, slamming upon Ilya's prostate once more, "who do you belong to?"

"Y-you, oh, you, _you_ , no one but you, it all - it's all yours - "

"That's right." Dracen squeezed Ilya's cheeks, digging his nails deep into the reddened flesh. Ilya keened. "This lovely pert ass. This tight hole. These hips, these thighs."

Violently, he jerked Ilya back up; more blood dripped from Ilya's hole. He yanked hard on Ilya's cock, earning a sob. "This cute little dick." He pressed his lips to Ilya's, swallowing him in a brutal kiss. "This sweet mouth. And more than that. Your heart, your mind - they're all _mine."_

"Yes, yes, Master, only for you," Ilya sobbed. 

"Don't ever forget that. You are mine - " 

He thrust harder than ever, slamming his tight, throbbing head against Ilya's prostate, and it was too much for him; his release struck him like a blow. Thank everything the chair was there to brace him, otherwise he would have collapsed entirely as his body shook and his cum emptied inside Ilya's thoroughly fucked and abused insides. White dots danced in his vision, and he felt his light aura stir, Ilya's dark aura respond, and he didn't say it aloud, but he didn't have to:

_And I am yours._

Ilya screamed so high his voice broke, his body tautened, and an answering gush of liquid splashed Dracen's shirt. Dracen thrust a few more times to ride out his orgasm, rough and artless, and finally he was spent. He sagged back against the chair, breathing as hard as if he'd just run a marathon.

Atop him, Ilya's warm weight felt comfortable. Ilya had buried his face in Dracen's shirt, and Dracen suspected the cloth wasn't just damp because of his sweat. Taking a deep breath, he took off his sweat-fogged glasses and peered over Ilya's shoulder to check the damage.

A frothy pinkish mixture of blood and cum splattered his lap and Ilya's thighs. As he slowly pulled his way out, more dripped out of the wide-open hole. Ilya trembled. Dracen wrapped one gentle arm around Ilya's back and undid the bindings around his wrist with the other. He dearly wanted to check to see how bad the tear was, how much it was bleeding, but not so soon after they finished. Ilya needed time to recover first.

"M-Master." Ilya's plaintive whimper started Dracen. "Did I - was I good?"

Dracen didn't have to think. He bent down and pressed his lips to Ilya's forehead. "Of course you were, little raven."

He hadn't used the affectionate nickname once during the game. It wouldn't have fit the cruel, possessive master he had play-acted, and truth be told, he didn't want Ilya to associate the name with pain, humiliation, helplessness, no matter how much Ilya got off to all those things.

As if recognizing that they were finally shedding their roles, Ilya shifted against Dracen's chest and murmured, "Dracen."

There was none of the bratty whine in his voice now; even exhausted and weak, he sounded as bold and confident as he had the first day they had met. Dracen's heart swelled painfully and to his embarrassment, tears pricked his eyes.

Now Dracen didn't think that an energos crying was anything to be ashamed of, but he still blinked hard until he was sure the tears were gone. _Control, you must never lose your control._ "Ilya," he said when he was sure he could speak steadily, "you know I love you, don't you?"

Ilya's satisfaction reverberated through the bond. "Of course I do, you moron. And the same's true for me."

Eventually they'd have to get cleaned up and tend to Ilya's injuries, but for now Dracen was fine just relaxing here, Ilya in his lap, breathing in concert with his ministra and enjoying the warmth of his presence. Now that the high of their lust had died down, Ilya's scent had softened into a barely-there whisper in the air, gentle and soothing. 

"Admit it," Ilya said after a while. "This is way more fun than some stupid book about lame old shit."

"Now, what would a brat like you know?" Dracen teased.

Although, if pushed, he would have to confess that Ilya did indeed have a point.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading, and let me know what you think. I always have a lot of fun writing these two. 
> 
> I've written even more Magus Verse short stories than this, but rather than post them online I'll probably include some of them as extras in the published version of Alone, Together, especially since they have major spoilers. That should be motivation to get cracking on it in 2020, haha.


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